


Shall I Compare Thee to a Rose?

by Kalikuks



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: An Attempt at H'annit's Speech Pattern, F/F, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Mentions of Primrose's Backstory, mentions of the other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24201025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalikuks/pseuds/Kalikuks
Summary: “I am sorry, it’s a lovely rose,” Primrose begins, “It’s just…”“Thine distaste is because thou do not wanten thine form to be beholden like a rose.” H’annit finishes for her, “Letten me explain mine thoughts..."-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --In which a cynical Primrose is given a gift by H'annit.
Relationships: Primrose Azelhart/H'aanit
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Shall I Compare Thee to a Rose?

**Author's Note:**

> I've not written for another fandom other than Overwatch for four years. So that means that my Octopath Traveler knowledge is very rusty and so is my attempts to write H'annit's speech pattern, so please be kind!

The Riverlands sprawl ahead before them, a sea of green broken only by rivers blue. Some of the other members of their little band of travellers have gone into Clearbrook to buy more supplies for their travels before they head northward to the Cliftlands. Primrose has opted to stay behind at camp to begin the slow process of packing up. Tressa had left earlier with Alfyn, Olberic, and a cheery promise to bring back something sweet for them all to share.

Cyrus has also remained behind at camp, though his nose is currently buried in one of his tomes. Primrose can hear him muttering to himself every so often, and see his quill flying rapidly as he makes notes in the margins. Ophilia is busy tending to a still wounded Therion, who’s grousing at the cleric’s hovering.

H’annit had disappeared before the sun had even risen over their camp, and Primrose knows that the huntress had taken her snow leopard Linde alongside her to hunt for whatever game she can find. She should be returning soon, as H’annit usually does before camp is fully packed away.

Primrose busies herself with packing up her own bedroll and supplies. It’s nothing much, as she does not have much to her name. Hell, the bedroll had been a recent purchase at Tressa's insistence. The young girl had even haggled down the price to allow for Primrose to get a better deal.

Its more possessions than Primrose had left the Sunlands with, just the scanty clothing on her back, the jewels of the Sunshade dancers, and a single dagger. Primrose takes that dagger out now, in order to cut the unusable, frayed ends of the rope she uses to bind her bedroll. Her reflection catches her eye on the silvered blade, and Primrose pointedly looks away.

Sometimes she wonders what the others must think of her, a disgraced daughter to a murdered nobleman. Dancing for the pleasures of men back in Sunshade where they had met her. She can’t even afford new clothes for the much chillier climate here in the Riverlands. As if summoned, a breeze kicks up, tousling the bright scarlet fabrics of Primrose’s sheer dancer’s dress.

Suddenly a cloak is tossed onto Primrose’s shoulders, and she gathers it close to stave off the chill wind. When she looks to thank whoever had provided it, she comes face to face with H’annit, the other woman giving her a curt but not an unkind nod. There’s small game tied over H’annit’s shoulder and a rabbit in Linde’s mouth. Her huntsuccessful, though Primrose had little doubt that it wouldn’t be.

“Thank you,” Primrose returns H’annit’s nod.

She gathers the cloak closer, but her fingers brush something that is not fabric. Tucked into a loop of loose thread, a rose sits, petals still damp with morning dew. Surprised, Primrose looks to H’annit.

“I came ‘cross it upon mine hunt,” H’annit replies, “T’was bright with morning dew, and I found mine mind strayen to thee.”

Primrose looks to the rose. It’s in full bloom, and indeed in the light of the morning sun, there are still a few stubborn droplets of dew that sparkle on the scarlet petals. It’s beautiful, but part of Primrose finds the gift… distasteful. Of course, H’annit’s mind would stray to her by viewing a rose. A rose is too dressed in scarlet, with dew like jewels. Nothing more than a pretty trinket that will soon wither as the journey progresses. Only the rose will not be sullied by the blood that Primrose must spill to take her vengeance.

Her distaste must show on her face because H’annit’s cocked her head to the side to study Primrose. She sighs, and motions to the rose.

“I am sorry, it’s a lovely rose,” Primrose begins, “It’s just…”

“Thine distaste is because thou do not wanten thine form to be beholden like a rose.” H’annit finishes for her, “Letten me explain mine thoughts. I do not beholden you like the rose for thy beauty, though thou art beautiful. I beholden thee like a rose because _thou_ reminde me of the rose. Thine form is beautiful but if they who wish to be close do not take care, thy will find thine fingers pricked. T’would be unwise to underestimate thee, Primrose, but thou also have a gentle side as well that thy would be unable to beholden unless thou mind thy thorns.”

H’annit pauses and looks to the stunned Primrose, “Young Tressa has come to see thou as one would beholden an older sister. Thou inspire us all amidst the most unkind of battlefields. It is my hope that thou beholden thyself as thine companions beholden thee.”

Primrose, still rendered silent, looks down to the rose stuck to the cloak. Carefully, she plucks it from the loop of thread, careful of the thorns. H’annit has since moved on into the camp proper to prepare her game for breakfast, the ever-loyal Linde following in her master’s steps.

Privately, on the very edge of the camp, facing an expanse of waving green grass and glittering blue rivers, Primrose allows herself to smile.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Twitter at [Angstgremlin](https://twitter.com/Angstgremlin)


End file.
